


Take Cover

by MajorMinor



Series: Tumblr One Shots [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, Fake Marriage, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, One Shot, Past Sexual Assault, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-03-02 19:19:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18817345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorMinor/pseuds/MajorMinor
Summary: Prompt: Forced to get legally married for a mission but they hate each other.





	1. Chapter 1

Years of training and running missions with the Red Room, Natasha had learned that there are fates worse than death. Being captured and beaten to a pulp for information, having a partner tortured in front of her, getting a bullet that would release her from her hell of a life only to be revived or put on ice. Natasha knew so many of death’s faces that she believed nothing could faze her anymore, but she never thought she would find one of its faces in the man who had set her free. 

A part of her felt stupid for hating Clint as much as she did. She should have been grateful to him. He had cut out one of the deaths Natasha had feared for so long by bringing her to Shield. She was in their protection, far from the Red Room, and after months of work, had finally been deprogrammed. Life was still nothing but missions and time spent between missions, but she had room to roam, room to live and breathe like any human should have. It was a freedom she never thought she could have, but it also meant that she owed him something, and for that, she hated him. 

But despite her hatred, she was constantly paired with him for missions. At first, she thought it was because Shield didn’t trust her to be with anyone else, but then she started to realize it was because no one else wanted to work with her. When she had first realized that, it made her puff out a little with pride. She was the big, scary, new girl in town, and she was good, no, great, at what she did. If she was in their shoes, she’d be scared of her too. But everyone else’s fear meant that Clint was the only one she could effectively work with, which meant she had all that more reason to hate him. Each time he wiggled his way into her routine on a mission, each word of encouragement, every wink and nudge was torture, and she knew that he was doing it to mess with her. She was starting to wonder how someone like him ever got the call to work with Shield and then have the skill to take her down. 

At first, she feared that her hatred was unrequited, Clint’s jabs at her just his asshole-ish attitude, but when Phil briefed them on their newest mission, Natasha was relieved to find out that he was just as upset as she was. 

“Married? Are you fucking kidding me?” Clint had exclaimed days earlier when they first got the news. 

“Listen, I know you think this is bad,” Phil had started. 

“This is worse than bad. This is, this is,” Clint stumbled over finding the words to match his distress.

“The fucking worst.” Natasha filled in. It wasn’t as poignant as she was hoping for, but “this is what’s going to be in my suicide note” felt a little too harsh. 

The two of them had had two missions before where they had to pose as a couple, though they didn’t need to act on it much, as they both ensured their missions ran a lot shorter than their original estimated duration. Six hours was the record so far, Clint taking out an arms dealer in Waco a few months back. Natasha was glad to have chucked the cheap silver ring down a storm drain when they left to go back to their rendezvous point. 

But this time, they had to do the real deal. No fake rings, no fake marriage license put together in PhotoShop, and no extra sleeping bag packed so they wouldn’t have to share a bed. They had to cross international borders this time, trekking all the way to Portugal, posing as a couple for several weeks, months even if things went south, and Shield thought it best to get legal licenses made. So the day after their briefing, they went to the courthouse as David and Anya Nicholson, with a photographer with them just to make sure their cover was authentic as possible, and signed their names. 

It was torture, and with the cheery young woman taking their pictures, cooing and gleefully showing them the shots of she and Clint, arms wrapped around each other, smiling through the agony of the situation, and a few shots of them kissing. Neither one of them admitted it, but they were both a tad bit sloshed during the entire thing. Turns out spy training is helpful for holding down alcohol too. 

The flight out to Portugal was painfully long. Having to sit next to Clint’s snoring, chewing, and just sitting next to him for twelve hours was the worst insult to an already bleeding out injury. She thought that things couldn’t have gotten much worse, but when they landed and got to the apartment they would be sharing for however long this G-d forsaken mission was going to take, there was to their horror, only one bed.

“Is the mission to kill a human trafficker or each other?” Clint groaned, tossing his stuff down on the couch in the living room. 

Natasha didn’t say anything. There was an unspoken agreement between them that in times when they had only one proper sleeping spot, Natasha would get the bed, and he would set up on the floor in a sleeping bag or the couch. It had never been a big point of contingency before, but with the added flare of being  _ legally _ married and the duration of the mission, the situation felt like rubbing salt in the wound. 

She went to the bedroom and changed into something more comfortable, and stayed there for a while with the door closed, reading over the files of the guy they were supposed to be taking out. Their target was too high into the ranks of local politics for him to be taken out with a bullet to the head or arrow through the neck. Too many allies and people who would notice him vanishing. No, they had to wear him down, and make him leave on his own accord, or at least make it look like a very convincing accident, hence the duration and heavy cover. Their objective for tonight was to attend a gala as newlywed grad students, in town for research and an extended honeymoon, and work their way into their target’s inner circle. Shouldn’t be too hard, both she and Clint spoke Portuguese, and even though they would be lying through their teeth, she figured that they could hold down an engaging enough conversation. 

That evening, they got dressed in the nicest outfits they had packed with them, and headed across town to the museum the gala would be at. It was a small event, which Natasha appreciated, less eyes to catch she and Clint together, both as a work duo, and a couple. Their target, some middle aged guy named Theo was lounging in the corner of some exhibit, eyes catching Natasha in her shimmery cocktail dress immediately.

Clint had his arm interlocked with hers, rubbing his thumb up and down her arm affectionately. _Chill out Tasa._ _He’s just playing along._

They walked up to the target and Natasha didn’t even have to play up her act all that much. Theo was onto her in a second, ignoring Clint altogether, only giving him a glance when Natasha introduced him as her husband. G-d saying that aloud felt weird. She hoped that in the coming weeks, it would start to feel more like work and not some awful parody of who she had to be for the job. 

“Ah, newlyweds.” Theo said, still keeping his gaze on Natasha, his eyes roaming every inch of her. “You two will love the university here, and the city. It’s very...enchanting, if you know what I mean.” 

Natasha let out an airy laugh. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll get around to some sight seeing eventually. Won’t we babe?” She looked up at Clint, who had been particularly silent this entire time.

“Yeah, can’t wait.” he replied. He sounded tense, which made her nervous. This was supposed to be the easy part. All they had to do was play the happy young couple, happy to finally be abroad and in love, but Clint’s stony expression was making it seem like Natasha was holding him hostage. 

“You alright?” she asked, “Why don’t you go get something to drink, I’ll wait here with Theo for you to get back.” 

Clint shot a glance from her and then to Theo, his eyes narrow, “I’m fine. I actually wanna dance. Be a shame for all this good music to go to waste.” 

Something in Natasha twinged, what the hell was he doing? But it was better to play along. She could buy back time with Theo later, they were here for a while, and it would look better for her to go dance with her supposed husband than turn him down. “Sure. I’ll be back in a little bit, okay Theo?” Natasha wagged her fingers at the target as Clint hooked his arm in hers again and led her to the dancefloor. 

They swayed back and forth to some jazzy cover of an Elvis song. Natasha had to fight the urge to roll her eyes when she realized it was  _ I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You.  _ She rested her head on Clint’s shoulder, partly playing into the cover, and partly because she was tired and her heels were aching on top of her already blistered feet. 

“He’s looking over here again.” Clint whispered harshly in her ear. They had danced together before on previous missions, and she was used to him having to whisper softly in her ear to pass something along about their target. But his voice now wasn’t as blunt as it usually was. Well, no. It was blunt, but there was an edge of heat to it now, an edge of anger. 

“Okay?” Natasha said, her own voice taking up a strange tone, confusion maybe? What would make Clint so angry right now? This was work, Theo was supposed to be looking at her, and Clint was supposed to be watching him, but she knew that he was watching him in a different sense now. 

“Can I please just put a knife through that guy’s throat?” Clint growled. 

“David.” she said, pulling back and gazing into his eyes. He looked down at her and she saw it, that flash of anger in his expression that wiped away when he noticed her looking at him. “Let’s go.” 

Clint didn’t need any further instruction. They walked off the dancefloor, and made their way back to the apartment. Once the door clicked shut behind them, Natasha went in. “What the fuck was that Barton?” 

Clint didn’t say anything, just stormed off to the bathroom, which of course they had to share. “Barton, I’m talking to you.” she said going after him. He was already had the bathroom door closed behind him and she heard the shower switch on. “Barton!” 

The bathroom door swung open and she was met with Clint’s angry eyes. “That guy is fucking buy and selling women like they’re fucking puppies, and you’re just, you’re so fucking  _ casual _ about it!” 

“Well how the fuck else am I supposed to be? We’re spies Barton, not mercenaries. You think I like that I have to pretend to be nice to that guy?”

“You probably like it a lot more than having to be married to me.” he fumed.

“Oh don’t you even fucking start. I saw you out there. You’re-”

“I’m  _ what? _ ” Clint started, stepping toward her out of the bathroom, “A normal human with morals? Because if I were you, I would have snapped that guy’s neck the moment he set eyes on you.” 

That wasn’t it. He was getting too personal. This wasn’t about Theo being a disgusting human, this was about her. They had taken out traffickers before with less rigid covers, and had butted heads about things like this before, but he would usually only give jaded comments about how calm she managed to be, calling her an Ice Queen or apathetic. But never had he spent so many words like this. 

Natasha was taken aback. Was he concerned about her? He had no reason to be, he’d seen her when she was still with the Red Room. He knew better than anybody what she was capable of, and if their mission hadn’t been covert, she would have absolutely put a bullet between Theo’s eyes before he could so much as turn his head to look at her. 

“What the hell is this really about?” she asked. She knew, but she wanted to be wrong. She didn’t want his concern, she already owed him a debt, she didn’t need to have him catching feelings or feeling that he needed to protect her. 

Clint didn’t answer. Instead he slammed the bathroom door shut and Natasha heard the shower switch on. She didn’t wait for him to come out to talk to him again, she had her answer. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha's disliking of Clint melts into something new after an encounter with their target.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so since i've gotten like 10 different requests between here and tumblr to make this longer, i'm gonna try to crank out 4 or 5 chapters before i end it. no promises how long that's gonna take cause i do have a much longer fic that i really want to finish (please read it i worked really hard and i'm really proud of it) but i'll try to have this done by june. hope y'all enjoy!

The first two weeks in Portugal were infuriating. Despite the fact that Theo was a big donor to the graduate school Clint and Natasha were pretending to be enrolled in, he was elusive. Natasha had gone against all logic and spent her days trying to go after Theo by herself, spending hours out in town and in the university, scouting out the locations they had been tipped off about Theo’s trafficking. It was hard doing it alone, or at least she felt as though she was working alone.

After their argument that first night, Clint had become reclusive. He only ever signed to her, which she only managed to catch bits and pieces of, she had only just started learning ASL which was miles different than the Russian standard she had been taught in the Red Room. Natasha had only spoken to him in Russian some days, trying to reciprocate his stubborn attitude. She knew he didn’t understand it well enough to respond, and felt it was a fair trade for him only signing to her for the first few days after their fight.

By the end of the first week though, their silent treatment had run its course. They needed to speak to each other to work and to survive, but since Clint was still too much in his own head to do that, they took to treating this as if it were a solo mission. Natasha would go out during the day and talk to Theo’s colleagues and clients, coming off as an enthusiastic grad student that just wanted to get to know him. Clint going full covert mode and spending night after night in the tow, putting that Hawkeye codename to use as he watched Theo move about the city.

Neither one of them ever had much to report back at the apartment. Theo was elusive, working as indirectly as possible when he could. Clint had caught mostly only been able to watch him through the windows of his home, which was occupied only by him and his house staff. There was nothing redeemable about what Theo was doing, but at least he had the nerve to not have a wife or kids amongst his business. By the third week, both of them were tense from their own emotions and lack of action. Clint wanted to spring a trap in Theo’s house, draw him out and ambush him. Natasha wanted to catch him off guard, get under his skin, and work her way to where she needed to be to get this job over with.

On the Friday of their third week however, there was a breakthrough, a gloriously simple one, but a breakthrough nonetheless. Natasha had been in the library of the university, flipping through some tome on Portuguese art, when she heard a murmur of voices behind her. She shut the book and looked around the shelves, and there he was; Theo.

There was a gang of students and staff going up to him, telling him how grateful they were for his generous donations to the library and various departments of the school. Natasha made her way toward him, and he caught her immediately. He waved off the people around him and stepped to her.

“Hello! Long time no see. How have you been?” he started.

Natasha slipped into the sugary voice she had used the night they first met. “Oh fine, same as always. Me and David have been meaning to get out, but work and school keeps us busy.”

Theo smiled. “Well, I’m sure I can help you with that.” He took a card out of his pocket, wrote down an address and phone number and passed it to her. “Join me for dinner someday. You can set it up with my assistant. I’d be more than happy to show you the more...secretive pleasures this city has.”

 _Ew._ “Thank you. I’ll tell David, I’m sure he’d be glad to get to talk to you.”

Theo’s expression wavered a little at that. “Ha. Well, I hope to see you again soon Anya.”

When Natasha had told Clint about the set up, he looked annoyed, but she didn’t wait for him to have any smart remarks. “I’ve already set it up for Sunday evening. Clear your nesting hours.”

* * *

 

When Sunday rolled around, Natasha was itching with anticipation. Finally, something to fucking do on this mission. The restaurant wasn’t far from the apartment they had been holed up in, so she walked, Clint following closely on the adjacent streets until they both reached the restaurant, where Theo was waiting outside.

“Ah, Anya, I’m so glad to see you.” he had his arms stretched wide for a hug. “Where’s David?”

“He got food poisoning, but he sends his regards.” She heard Clint chuff out a laugh in her comm.

Theo led them inside to a table toward the back of the restaurant. There was a guard standing on either side of the table, which put Natasha on alert. Theo may have presented himself as an elusive and private man, but this was a clear indicator of his shady dealings on the side.

Clint was somewhere in the upper floors of the neighboring building, watching through windows and seeing she and Theo's every move while being completely invisible to any untrained eyes. Natasha felt about as safe as possible on missions like this. Even if Theo or either of the men standing guard beside him tried something, she could take them out, and if she couldn't, well, Clint's code name wasn't Hawkeye for nothing.

She drank one glass of wine and picked over her food. She may not have been as susceptible to alcohol as Theo may have been, but she didn't want him to get the idea that she was too comfortable around him. This had been arranged as something strictly professional, discussing the programs at the university, gaining his trust so she could get into his professional circles, not personal.

“So, Anya,” Theo said, “what exactly brought you and your um, husband, here?” He said ‘husband' the way little kids talk about broccoli. It was something gross and annoying, something he wanted to push to the edge of his plate and flick to a dog waiting under the table.

Clint could hear everything through the wire she was wearing. Natasha gave a small smile. “Well when we met in undergrad, we were both on a humanities track, European history and all. So when we graduated, and then married, we decided, why not come to the heart of where all great exploration began y'know? Get a hands on experience in that history.”

Theo smiled and laughed. “Smart girl you must be. Not many people appreciate a woman with so much, curiosity and appreciation for the Old World.”

“Well we both paid 35k to get degrees in it, so I would hope to have a bit of appreciation for it.” Natasha tried to keep bringing Clint, well, David, in the conversation, keep Theo's focus professional. His files had said that he worked with his traffickers and clients through his allies, professors and politicians with a taste for their students and interns.

Professional is what was preferred, but Natasha had a sick feeling that she was going to have to take the personal route. This mission was already going into its third week without much progress. The stress of this mission plus the added weight of the tension between she and Clint made working conditions seem far worse than they actually were. Natasha just wanted the whole thing to be over with so they could go back stateside, and she could request a new partner.

“Ah, you Americans and your money. I can respect it though, spending it on such a quality education.” Theo said as he waved down the waiter. “I’ll take check now. Both our meals are together.”

“Oh no, I can pay.” Natasha said determined. Professional, this was professional, she didn’t want Theo to get any funny ideas. But he had funny ideas when he first saw her, and when she took this dinner. He was expecting something from her now, especially after three weeks of trying to weasel herself to this exact scenario.

“Please, it’s my pleasure.” Theo’s voice dropped to that low gravelly tone older men take up when they think they’re being sexy, when in reality they sound like a dog with a bad chest cold.

“Natasha.”

Clint’s voice in her ear was a shock, and she fumbled with her reply after he disrupted her. “Well, if you insist, but I’m not making this a habit.”

“ _Natasha._ ” Clint was sounding more irritated. The fact that he was saying anything at all was a surprise to her. There hadn’t been anything especially insightful during this dinner. All she had learned was Theo was the same as every old sleaze that preyed on women; too much money, and not enough people telling him no. Natasha was begging for anything, _anything_ to happen so she could get an opening on this guy. How could someone this simple be so hard to infiltrate?

The waiter left to bring back the check, and it was just the two, well three, counting Clint’s now active part in this conversation, of them.

“So,” Theo started, “any plans for the rest of the night?”

Fuck. It was such an obvious move to get any intel that she needed to wrap this mission up, but she didn’t want to do this. But why? She had slept with more men for work than she had for her own enjoyment, it was the one death she couldn’t escape, even now after so many months with Shield.

“Don’t you dare.” Clint’s voice said harshly in her ear. She wanted to be irritated with his interjections, she dealt with men like Theo for a living, she could handle this. But something about having Clint in her ear made her anxiety worsen. He was watching her, he could see everything, hear everything, Theo didn’t know, but what if he did? Was he trying to set her up? Would they get back to his penthouse and there would be Clint, tied up and beaten to a pulp by one of Theo’s goons? No, he couldn’t know, he had barely lifted his gaze up from the neckline of her dress, even with the modest cut he wouldn’t stop staring.

Why was she so worried? This was work, Theo was work. Clint was a part of work. But when Theo reached his hand across the table and placed it on top of her’s, she pulled back harder and faster than she had meant to. His touch snapped her out of her stupor.

“I’ve got to get home to David.” she said. Clint’s cover name felt like an anchor, and just like everything about this night and this mission, she hated it. Why did he have such a hold on her all of a sudden? Why was she letting Clint’s hooks get into her? Natasha had dealt with men like Theo, would keep dealing with them even if she ever had the chance to leave Shield. They had barely spoken to each other since the first night, but now all of a sudden, she wanted to be home, no, in the apartment, _don’t make this personal Natasha._ She wanted to be in the apartment with Clint. Why? Why, fucking _why?_

“Ah, perhaps another time then.” Theo said, if he caught wind of her sudden anxiety, he didn’t show it. He leaned across the table to grab Natasha’s hand and kiss it, but she snatched away and got up abruptly.

“Until next time _senhor_.” Natasha said before she whipped around and walked out the restaurant.

The entire walk home, Clint was silent in her ear. She caught a few quick glances of him moving through the streets as they both made their way back to the apartment, but neither one of them made a sound. He had reached the apartment before her, the door already unlocked when she got there. Inside, he was sitting on the couch, but his posture was rigid, and he stood up when she stepped inside.

He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped.

“If you have something smart to say, just say it Barton.” Natasha snapped. She didn’t give him time to answer, just kicked off her heels, and shut the door to the bedroom.

* * *

 

_Again._

_No._

_You sound like a porn star._

_Do it again._

_Come on babe._

_Fucking Christ Natalia, do it again._

_Again._

_Natalia!_

_You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous_

_“Natasha.”_

_Do you want to go back under?_

_Do it again._

_“Wake up.”_

_Anya._

_You’re not like the others._

_Do you like that?_

_Natalia._

_“Nat.”_

_Any plans for the rest of the night?_

_“Natasha. NATASHA!”_

She bolted upward, butting her forehead against something hard. She winced and pushed away at whatever she had hit, hands fumbling in the dark. Her fingers brushed against skin, and she screamed.

“Hey, hey!” a light switched on, and there was Clint, kneeling in bed beside her. “Chill, you’re okay. You’re okay.” his voice was soft but stern.

Natasha got out of bed and stood there staring at him for a few seconds, breathing heavily. The back of her neck was beaded with sweat despite the fact that the air conditioning was on full blast. She felt shaky and a little disoriented. She stumbled forward, trying to muster up the attitude she had had with him the last couple of weeks so she could push him out of the room and go back to sleep. But she tripped over herself and had to put her hands down in front of her to catch her on the mattress.

“Woah, are you okay?” Clint inched forward on the bed, hands outstretched cautiously.  Did that Theo guy give you something?”

She shook her head. She was fine, wasn’t she? Theo was just another disgusting human to be dealt with, she could handle this, she could. But why was his voice in her head hours later? But it hadn’t just been Theo’s voice. It was never just going to be Theo’s voice.

A shiver ran through her body, and Clint noticed. She felt his weight settle next to her on the edge of the bed. “Nat.”

She swallowed hard and took in a gulp of air. What did she want to say? What could she say? _Sorry for waking you up with my nightmare screaming. Go back to the couch, I’ll be fine once we kill this guy._

“Do you need some water? Aspirin?” Clint asked.

Natasha’s voice finally remembered how to work. “Vodka.” she said hoarsely. “Well, anything alcoholic, if we have it.” Clint nodded and went to the kitchen.

Natasha sat in the same position, barely moving while he was gone. There had been so many men like Theo before that she couldn’t count them if her life depended on it. Human traffickers, drug peddlers, arms dealers, straight up fucking war criminals, why was he sticking so hard and why had he brought them all back into her head at once? And he hadn’t just brought up the men she had killed or put away. _Fucking Christ Natalia, do it again._ The Red Room. The instructor who had trained her to do the very thing she was supposed to do without any fear or anxiety was coming back years later, and her voice still sent waves of emotions so horrible Natasha didn’t have words in any language to describe them.

She was glad when Clint finally came back into the room with a glass of vodka in one hand and the entire bottle in the other. She took the bottle and shot back a few gulps before setting it on the nightstand.

“Bad dream” Clint asked.

“Bad life.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Both of them taking swigs from the bottle, the glass forgotten on the nightstand. She was starting to cool off, the sweat on the back of her neck feeling too cold against her skin. The shakes in her body had stopped, and she could breathe easily again. Despite all that, she was wide awake.

“How did you hear me?” she asked suddenly.

Clint passed the bottle back to her. “What?”

“You. How did you hear me?” she looked over to the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was 2:36 in the morning. “I know you don’t sleep with your hearing aids in, especially not on non-violent missions like this. So how did you hear me?”

He turned his face away from he, unable to answer. He might not have been looking, but Natasha knew the body language, it was shame. But what for?

“I kept them in tonight.” he finally said, face still away. “You looked so rattled when you got back, thought that guy might have slipped you something, so I stayed awake as long as I could until I was certain you were asleep and no one would break the door down. I heard you screaming about thirty minutes after I fell asleep.” His words came slowly, like he kept debating if he should stop, or change his story, but he didn’t.

There it was, that concern that she didn’t need. She tensed again, preparing to be angry, but the feeling swelling in her chest wasn’t hot, it was a different kind of heat. Her entire body felt flush with embarrassment.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. We all have bad nights. Comes with the job. Just gotta hope they don’t turn into even worse days.” He got up from the bed. “You can keep the bottle.”

“Clint,”

But he was already to the bedroom door, closing it gently behind him. Natasha let out a sigh, took a few more swigs from the bottle, and went back to sleep. She left the light on, just in case she woke up again, but she didn’t.

When she awoke that morning, Clint was gone. She called him a couple times, but there was no answer. No note, nothing missing from the apartment, his bow and arrows still stashed in the closet by the front door. What she did notice though, was the news report on the tv when she switched it on as she sat down to eat breakfast.

Theo was missing, and so was her husband.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha goes on the hunt for Clint and gets into more trouble than he's worth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two things: writing this taught me that light bulb is two words and not one. and i have the absolute DUMBEST idea for a young avengers zombieland au. would anybody be interested in reading it?

Word of Clint’s work had already reached Phil and Fury because of course it did. Of course Clint would go do pull a bull-headed stunt like this without letting her know. Of course it would be right after witnesses had seen Theo the night before with an Anya Nicholson and were pointing fingers at her husband who had also vanished without a trace. 

“You need to find him.” Phil’s voice was harsh through the already staticky reception of the satellite phone. 

“You don’t think I know that.” Natasha groaned. She was packing a bag with no real intent other than ‘don’t get caught by the cops or Theo’s goons’. Although given his files, the cops were most likely Theo’s goons. 

“Why the fuck would he even do this?” Phil asked, Natasha could see him in her head right now, pacing back and forth in his office, probably with her on speaker so he could throw his hands around in frustration like he so often did. 

“I don’t know Phil, but I’m going to get him back.” 

But she knew. She knew and when Phil paused for a moment too long, she somehow thought that he had learned what she knew through the silence. “Get him back, or don’t bother coming back.” he hung up. 

Natasha threw the pair of pants she had been holding onto the mattress. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, what the  _ fuck _ !” 

Clint was gone, and so was their target. She knew that she was holding him hostage somewhere. The concern dripping from his voice last night made it clear that he had done this for her. Another debt added to Natasha’s account. 

Natasha ran her hands over her face, trying to calm herself down, but it was no use. She knew that Clint had already blown his cover, and while the authorities hadn’t gotten to her yet, she knew it was only a matter of time before her’s was out of the water too. She needed to plan, but the urgency of the situation outweighed her need to strategize. She threw a few more clothes into the duffel bag, before strapping a gun into the holster on her thigh, grabbing the files for the case, and leaving the apartment. It wasn’t going to leave a good look on local authorities for her to have vanished so soon after Theo and Clint’s disappearance, but she needed to put some distance between herself and whoever might be coming for her before she could even think about starting to plan. 

Her first stop was a car rental place, where she picked up the oldest make and model available, and paid in cash before driving out of the city. Once she rolled into the countryside about an hour later, Natasha finally pulled into a bed and breakfast to recoup for the night. But once she was up in her room, she didn’t relax. She went straight to work digging through the files on her target, who was very well might have been terminated by now, and if there were any locations Clint could have taken him to. She knew she had done herself a disservice by driving this far out of the way, but she was safe, for now at least, and had a couple hours head start to formulate a plan. 

By the time the sun was setting, Natasha was exhausted from running plans and possible locations through her head, but she finally had something that was coherent enough to follow through with. The news reports had said that Theo had last been seen at his home in the city, which had to be where Clint had gone the night before after she went back to sleep. It was possible that given Theo’s business, he most likely had underground bunkers or some sort of typical villany lair. Clint had reported to her that he lived alone save for his house staff, but now thanks to his impulsive actions, the mansion was sure to be swarming with guards. But as the rich and greedy always tend to do, Theo had a second home. A estate an hour opposite the direction she had driven, just north of the city. The news reports had stated that one of Theo’s cars had gone missing as well. Only a few places it could have ended up. 

Natasha checked the most recent satellite images and saw that the estate was fairly secluded. Just one winding road off a winding country road, that lead to a stretch of road through a dense forest before opening up to the property. It screamed secret hideout like a toddler throwing a tantrum. 

She wanted to wait until nightfall so she could have cover, but knew leaving in the dead of night would be a tip off to the innkeeper and any guests when local authorities caught up to her.  _ If they catch up to you. _ Natasha thought to herself. She grabbed the small purse she had brought with her, and went to the car. When she was about two miles out from the estate, she pulled over to the side of the road and parked along the tree line, hoping the coming darkness of night would be enough to keep any people passing by from getting suspicious. She changed into her catsuit, put on the night vision goggles she had brought, and started her way through the trees. 

Once the lights of the house came into view in her goggles, Natasha’s stomach dropped a little. It was far too illuminated for what was supposed to be just Clint and Theo hiding out inside. That paired with the fact that there were two more cars than Natasha had expected parked out front.  _ Shit. _ Clint had to have gotten captured, how could he not have? He had gone after a powerful man alone, seemingly without a plan, and tipped off the entire city all within twelve hours. Natasha would be surprised if she didn’t find Clint’s head already in a basket. 

She pulled up the layout of the house on the screening device. There were six bedrooms, but one of them on the first floor had a door that would be a closet in any other house, but this closet had another door inside it. It was either conveniently shitty architecture, or the entrance to that secret lair she had been thinking about earlier. She had a destination, but now there was the trouble of getting inside. Well, lack thereof. Theo might have had manpower, but they were still couldn’t manage against Nataha’s skill. She made it to the room undetected, and found that the closet door was already slightly ajar. 

“That’s promising.” she said under her breath. She went through, gun ready in her hands should someone try to sneak up on her. The entrance opened to a small, cramped, walk-in, but on the back wall, she saw a slender line of light creeping across the carpet. She pushed at the wall where the sliver of light was coming from, and it gave a little. She curled her fingers around the thin door and pulled back to reveal a tight stairway illuminated by a few light bulbs strung on the wall. 

The stairs went down about forty feet before opening up to a small entryway that led to another door. The layouts she had gotten from the satellite didn’t include these floor plans in the image, so she was going in blind from here. She pressed her ear against the door to see if she could hear anything or anyone on the other side, but it was thick metal and all she heard was the rush of blood in her ear. Thankfully though, the door was unlocked. It should have made her nervous, this had been too easy so far, Theo must be expecting her at this point. 

That door opened to something that finally gave her a clue as to what was going on at the estate. A horrifying clue, but a clue nonetheless. The room that opened before her was filled with cells lining the walls. Small and cramped, it reminded Natasha of an animal shelter than anywhere humans were supposedly kept. 

_ Come on, do it again.  _

_ Natalia! _

There they were again, all those voices from the Red Room that she tried to keep out, tried to beat out of her head by joining Shield and beating them down by taking down men like Theo. She knew that when she got to Barton, she wouldn’t waste any time putting a bullet between Theo’s eyes, or maybe his neck instead. He wasn’t deserving of a quick death. She wanted to burn the entire estate to the ground and fly back to Shield with pride in her chest at taking out another monster, but knew that wasn’t going to happen. There was no pride in what she was doing, there never would be. This was work, and work was always calling because no matter how many monsters she took down, no matter how many times she stared death in the face and it stared right back, she would survive, and have to live another day waiting for orders to do it all again. 

Thankfully, the cells were empty. It was a small mercy given the entire situation. One of the cells however, was open. She knew it was foolish, but she stepped inside and looked around, which all she had to do to do that was turn her head both directions. She was expecting some sort of trap to spring, shutting her inside, but nothing happened. This was too easy, she’d gotten too far, too fast. Whatever was going to happen next, was going to be bad. 

Against all her better judgement, Natasha ran down the rest of the way screaming Clint’s name. She couldn’t stand being in here any longer, and at this point, she was more afraid of what memories being down there would bring than whatever Theo could dish out. At the end of the room, she heard a shuffling in one of the cells. Natasha came to a halt and walked up to the bars. 

“Barton?” she whispered. 

“Tasha?” he groaned. 

She should have felt a wave of worry at how easily she had found him. She should have pulled the cell door open and rushed out of there with Clint slung over her back, dropping grenades behind her to blow the estate to hell. She should have heard the footsteps creeping up behind her. But she didn’t. Instead, she took three seconds too long to let out a gasping “Thank G-d you’re alive.” before opening the cell door. But by then, the needle was already in her neck, and she was slumping forward onto the hard ground, and fading into darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay but i'm working on getting a social life and like...a job. a bitch is broke

Clint Barton wasn’t stupid. Hot headed? Yeah. Impulsive and stubborn? Absolutely. But he was far from stupid. The entire drive to Theo’s mansion, he had only one thought on his mind; make him pay. Clint tried to trick himself into thinking that he was trying to make Theo pay for all the crimes he had committed, but he knew that wasn’t it. This was nothing more than a job, there were always going to be men like Theo to take down and try and make the world a little less shitty. But Theo had touched a nerve, he had touched Natasha. It was nothing more than a simple brush of hands, but watching Natasha that night after the meeting at the restaurant, he knew that that simple touch of hands had broken something inside her. She and Clint had never gotten along much other than being coworkers, but Clint wasn’t one to sit by and watch his partner toil through unspoken trauma. 

The night he left, he had considered leaving her a note so she wouldn’t worry, but pushed past the thought. Despite his kindness in that moment, he knew that she wouldn’t worry, it wasn’t her job to. But he had, well, was, worrying about her, and that worry had been enough to put him on the warpath to Theo. Which put him in the mansion without any weapons, and foolishly fighting against Theo’s security without his bow and arrow, and then facing Theo head on with a knife blade still in his left shoulder. Through it all, Clint had managed to put a dent in the guy. He got a couple cuts in with the knife he had snatched from one of the guards. Unfortunately though, Clint’s injury made him two seconds too slow just as he was about to drive the blade into Theo’s forehead, which resulted in it fumbling from his hand as pain shot through his arm. Theo head butted him, and the last thing Clint could remember was hands on him as he was being carried off in a van, and waking up to Natasha’s voice. 

He had no idea where he was when she found him, but he knew that if she had found him, then they were both in danger. Taking Theo on alone had blown their covers, and he knew that her coming after him alone was just as foolish as he had been trying to do the same with Theo the night before. 

“Tasha?” he groaned. 

“Thank G-d you’re alive.” Natasha gasped, but her joy was short lived. 

Clint managed to roll onto his side and see Natasha opening the door to his cell, but someone was behind her. It was too dark to make out their face, but their arm was raised above their head, needle in hand. Clint was too slow to warn her, and he wanted to stab himself for it. He couldn’t even manage to get his mouth open again before the needle was being driven into the side of her neck. 

Watching her fall felt like watching Bambi’s mom getting shot. It was a stupid comparison, but the genuine look of concern and relief that had been on her face before it crumpled into a flash of agony and then nothing as she hit the ground, fuck. It was an innocence lost, the pure concern and emotion that he never thought he would be able to garner from her. 

The person behind her stepped over her body, face still hidden in shadows. Clint wanted to crawl across the floor to her, pull her into his arms and whisper that he would get them out of this, but the figure grabbed him by the arm, and then Natasha’s and dragged them both out the cell. Clint was silent the entire time they were being dragged to G-d knows where. He turned his head to look at Natasha, the pain in his shoulder screaming at him to keep his head forward, but he couldn’t. She didn’t look like she was sleeping, despite the fact that she was unconscious, she knew that the expression she needed to put forth was pain and confusion. 

He had seen Natasha take bullets, knives, and even hopped in front of a grenade to save a mission, she could take pain. But there was an added layer of emotion to this that he knew had kept her from being at the one hundred percent that she usually was at. 

Clint didn’t know where he was, how Natasha had found him, or where they were being taken, but he did know this; as soon as he fought his way out of here, with Natasha at his side, he was never going to let anyone or anything break her the way this mission had. It wasn’t an easy promise to keep, Natasha would much rather kick rocks without shoes than let anyone, especially Clint, get close enough to see her in need. But he had seen her the night before, shaking and screaming in her sleep.  _ Bad life,  _ she had said. That bad night had crept into her long days, and he needed to stop them from creeping any further. Not just so she could do her job, and he could do his, but because nobody, fucking  _ nobody _ hurt his partners, not even the ones who had tried to slit his throat open half a year earlier. 

The person dragging them flung them forward into the center of a new room. Clint groaned as his shoulder was tugged at an uncomfortable angle. When he hit the ground, he had to fight the urge to immediately crawl to Natasha and check on her. She was still out cold, and Clint was praying to every g-d he knew hoping that whatever she had been injected with was non-lethal. 

“Y’know,” Clint groaned as he tried to sit up, “just cause you didn’t hit her, doesn’t make this any less fucked up.” 

The person didn’t say anything, just watched Clint with dark eyes. Somehow the worst part of that stare was that there was no intent in them. Whoever this was, wasn’t the person about to bring hell down on them. 

“Quiet type, huh? Yeah, I’d be quiet too if I had to keep all this under wraps.” Clint said, trying to keep his voice steady as pain tore through his shoulder again. He wondered if he could reach around and pull the blade out if the bodyguard ever turned away long enough for him to try. Clint had seen the knife before Theo’s goon had jammed it into his shoulder, it was only about five inches long, nothing that would be a hassle to hide inside his boot. But if he pulled it out, then he’d be in danger of bleeding out before he got the chance to drive it into someone’s chest and bust he and Natasha out of there. 

This had gotten far more complicated than it needed to, and all because of his hardheaded actions. Clint shook that thought out of his head.  _ No, _ he thought,  _ you did what you felt was right, and you’re right eight-five percent of the time.  _

A door creaked open on the other side of the room. Clint struggled to roll over, and from his slanted view he could see Theo walking in accompanied by two other men who were grinning slyly at the pair of them on the floor. There it was, that intent in their eyes, this wasn’t about to get any easier. 

“David, so nice of you to get your wife to join us.” Theo jested as he walked toward Natasha, pushing her onto her back with his foot. 

Clint let out a groan as he rolled over. “Don’t touch her.” he said through clenched teeth.

Theo removed his foot from Natasha, walked over to Clint, and put his foot on his head, pushing him hard against the ground. “I’ll do things far worse than that, that you’ll make me wish I had  _ only _ touched her.” Theo growled before delivering a kick to Clint’s head. 

Something inside him snapped, and Clint was grabbing onto Theo’s pant leg. Theo laughed and snatched his leg away from Clint’s grasp. “Pathetic.”

Clint groaned against the throbbing in his head.  _ How’re you gonna get outta this one Barton? _ He rolled his shoulder, hoping to at least dislodge the blade a little so he could pull it out, but hands were on him, dragging him back and away from Natasha. 

“No!” he shouted. He watched as one of Theo’s goons descended upon her, lifting her up by her shoulders. It was watching Natasha’s body fall limp as she was lifted off the ground that sent Clint into a rage. She looked so helpless, and he knew how much she would have hated him seeing her like this. No doubt she was probably beating herself up over the fact that she had woken him up last night and gotten his concern, but that he could deal with. Natasha couldn’t help the fact that her memories crept into her mind when she was supposed to feel most at ease, he had been there, and was no doubt going to be there again when this mission was over.  _ Bad life.  _ She had said to him last night. Clint wasn’t going to let this night add to her days. 

He snatched away from the man holding him, and reached his arm around to the blade in his shoulder. It hurt like a bitch, and Clint could barely keep himself from crying out as he did it, but all the extra movement had pushed the end of the blade out. It was barely an inch out of his skin, but was more than enough for Clint to squeeze between his fingers, and send it flying into the eye of the man that had been holding him. 

The man’s screams caught the attention of everyone else in the room, and Clint had to work quickly through his pain and his brain firing at him to stop and think. He lunged at the man holding his hand over his now ruined eye and grabbed the gun in his thigh holster. He fired two quick shots into the man he had just blinded, before turning on Theo and the two remaining thugs. 

A bullet tore through Clint’s arm and he cried out, nearly dropping his gun as the pain in his shoulder was met with something entirely familiar, but still just as hot and horrible. He aimed and fired at the thug who had just shot him, and caught him in the neck. Another quick shot and the last thug was crumpling to the ground with a bullet lodged between his eyes. It was finally Theo and Clint yet again. 

Clint charged at him, not wanting to waste the bullets to take him down. Theo deserved something far worse than a quick bullet to the brain. Clint wanted to tear him apart limb by limb, break him down to the most bare and raw pain until he was begging for death, but even then, Clint felt as if that wouldn’t be enough. 

This was a man who had done unspeakable things to countless women, and walked around with fat pockets and a fat smile as if he had the whole of the moon in his hands. It was disgusting, and Clint knew that his rage at Theo for how he had effected Natasha was slightly selfish. There had been so many others before who had witnessed Theo’s horrors first hand and deserved the chance to kill Theo more than Clint ever would. But how else was he meant to be?

Natasha was his partner, and he would protect her as best he could, even from the enemies he couldn’t see, even if she didn’t want him to. The only thing selfish about Clint’s rage was that he had tried to take the time to make Theo pay, when he should have put two bullets in Theo’s eyes, and left him wandering the halls blindly as Clint set off an explosive with Natasha from the grounds above, and watch with her as the hell Theo had inflicted burned away.

Clint tackled Theo, but Theo was a big guy, and he managed to throw Clint to the side. He narrowly missed Natasha’s limp body when he hit the ground. He scrambled toward her, his fingers barely brushing her utility belt before Theo grabbed him by the back of his neck and flung him back again. 

Clint tried to stand again, but he felt disoriented, his head throbbing from Theo’s kick earlier and now being slammed into the ground twice. But he had managed to grab what he needed from Natasha, all he needed to do now was put enough distance between him and Theo to grab her and try to find their way out without a map and hope he didn’t get themselves killed in the process. 

“You don’t know when to fucking quit, do you?” Theo growled, marching toward Clint as he loaded his gun. 

Clint gave a short laugh and said, “Yeah well, something something, I can’t miss.” 

“What?” 

“Never mind.” 

Clint held his hand up and flicked the switch on the detonator he had taken off Natasha’s belt and chucked it at Theo’s head. He got to his feet and went to Natasha’ unfastening her utility belt and threw that at Theo’s feet. There was a good thirty seconds to spare before all of the explosives went off and taking out, well shit, Clint had never really been sure just how powerful all of that going off at once could be. He threw her over his shoulder and sprinted out of the room, trying to fight against the pain coursing through his body. 

Behind him, he could hear Theo chasing after them, but Clint didn’t dare turn around. They were almost to the end of the hall of the cells that Clint had been kept in, and Clint knew that they weren’t going to make it out before the bombs went off. 

“This might hurt.” he said to Natasha.

“What?” she stirred, her face dangling just above his belt. 

He almost stopped to put her on the ground to check on her, but there wasn’t enough time. “Sorry about this.” he said before flinging Natasha into one of the cells and slamming the door shut behind her. 

“Cl-” was all he heard before Theo’s hands were on him, followed by a wall of fire and ear splitting explosions erupting behind him. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost ended this with some unresolved angst but remembered i'm better than that anyway enjoy the month late conclusion to this fic thanks for reading

One month after returning stateside, Natasha and Clint got divorced. In the madness of Portugal and the storm that followed after they’d been extracted, Natasha had completely forgotten that they had been legally married in the first place. When Coulson had called her a week after returning stateside, telling her that she and Clint could get divorced as soon as he was cleared from the hospital, Natasha had stumbled with her answer, almost ready to ask ‘what are you talking about?’, but quickly remembered that yes, she and Clint were still technically married, even if it was under aliases. 

Natasha didn’t want to admit it, but when Coulson had called her again three weeks later saying that Barton had been discharged, she almost wanted to put off going to the divorce lawyer. It wasn’t like the divorce process would be as grueling as a real one, they had a Shield appointed lawyer who had already done the bulk of the work for them, all Clint and Natasha had to do was go down to the office together, sign their names, and be done with the whole affair. She wasn’t putting it off because she liked the idea of being married to Clint, she just didn’t want to see him again. 

After the explosion, local police had arrived, and of course, their covers had been compromised. Shield came and extracted them within twelve hours, and Coulson had put both Clint and Natasha on indefinite leave until the media storm and diplomatic matters blew over. Since her debriefing the day after returning, Natasha had spent a majority of her time in her apartment, only ever leaving when she needed to pick up a take-out order or actually go grocery shopping. Even when she was inside, she didn’t do much of anything. Some days it would be a miracle if she managed to watch through an entire movie or play a round or two on Mortal Kombat, but other than that, she would hole herself away in her room, or on the couch, and stare blankly at whatever her eyes settled on until her stomach or bladder demanded that she get up.  

Natasha knew that she was being pathetic, but after the emotional roller coaster that had been Portugal, she felt that she deserved it. How could someone like Theo, someone Natasha had faced off against time, and time, and time again, gotten to her so badly? The answer she had wanted to settle on was that she was finally slipping out of her prime, that she did need the Red Room after all to be of use in the world. That would be the easiest truth to accept, because at least then, she could justify slipping off the radar and maybe finally getting the  peace in life that she so badly needed and damn well deserved at this point. It would be so easy to leave the apartment and DC, pack a few things, and move to some podunk town in Washington state or Alabama, and start over. It wasn’t as if anyone would be able to track her, and if they did, well, what could they do to bring her back? But she couldn’t even keep her head straight to think of a decent strategy to get out of Portugal.

That thought stung, because she knew that no amount of hoping for an escape or denying what had driven her to this point wasn’t going to change what had happened, and why she had been so off kilter the past couple of weeks. It was Clint. 

That first night in Portugal when they argued, she could tell that he was developing feelings for her, although just what those were, she hadn’t been sure of in that moment. But now, with her here and alive with barely a scratch after the explosion (well, there was the giant bruise running across her back from being thrown against a cell wall), while he had burns, bruises, and broken bones, all from going out of his way to get revenge on a man that they were already tasked with killing. 

There was no logical reason for Clint to do what he had done, so as much as Natasha hated admitting it, Clint Barton cared for her, which meant that she owed him her life  _ again.  _ It felt like an odd twist of fate that they had been tasked with killing each other while playing for opposite teams less than a year ago, and now here they were, on opposite ends of some new divide between them, risking their lives for each other. But while Clint had risked his physicality for her, Natasha was putting her emotions on the line, and after the whirlwind that had been the last two months, she would have much rather preferred to catch a bullet for him and call it even. At least that would heal more quickly than whatever thorn this marriage had put in her side. 

* * *

Natasha’s guilt at watching Clint struggle to sign his name with his arm in a sling almost got to her, until she saw that he hadn’t actually signed the documents, but just write his name out in all capital letters. 

“Do you not know cursive?” she asked. 

“No, what for?” he said, sounding genuinely confused that she had asked him. 

Natasha rolled her eyes and grabbed the pen and papers from him, signing her name on the line next to his before folding the documents back to their first pages and sliding them across the table to their divorce lawyer. 

“Well Mr. and Mrs. Nicholson,” the lawyer said in a teasing tone, “You two are officially and legally broken up.” 

When Coulson had first broken the news to she and Clint had to get legally married, Natasha had been counting down the days to the end of their mission for this exact moment. But now it was here, and the weeks of trauma and emotions that had passed between the two of them made this moment harder than it had any right to be. She felt that she was owed something more than a quick signature and a closing statement. What exactly she wanted out of this, she wasn’t sure, but the fifteen minutes that they had spent in the office felt like an insult to everything that had lead up to this moment. 

That want for something more made Natasha feel disoriented and confused, she couldn’t take not knowing what she wanted or needed to do in situations like this. She got up quickly out of her chair and walked out of the office, not stopping to give a proper thanks or goodbye to the lawyer, and she sure as hell didn’t want to stop and talk to Clint, too afraid of what emotions would bubble over if she did. She made it down the stairs to the lobby of the building before Clint caught up to her. 

“Hey, hey!” he called after her. 

Natasha’s eye twitched, did he seriously have to yell and get the attention of the young receptionist? But regardless of her annoyance, Natasha stopped and turned to face him. 

“What?” she asked when he reached her. 

“I just,” he paused. It was strange watching him fumble over his words. So much of their non-mission related interactions had been brief and passive aggression at each other. This was the first time since her waking up from the nightmare in Portugal that she had actually spoken to him. They hadn’t exchanged any words in the office aside from quick greetings to acknowledge that they were both there. 

“What?” Natasha asked again. 

“Are you okay?” Clint asked at last. 

“I’ve been better.” Not a complete lie. 

“Natasha, seriously.” his tone was steady, but not persistent. He knew first hand that Natasha wasn’t one to let up information about herself easily, but here he was asking anyway. There was all that concern again. 

That same feeling of confusion and disorientation that she had felt just moments before in the office, and all throughout Portugal filled her head again. Her fingers twitched at her side, her body ready to react against a danger that wasn’t there, because the closest thing Natasha had felt this before was anxiety and panic. Her head was reeling, and her body was a coil, waiting for something to spring her into action. 

_ Do it again. _

_ “Natasha?”  _

“I can’t do this.” she said at last. 

Clint’s expression shifted from concern to confusion. “What?” 

“This,” she said again, waving her hand back and forth between them. “Whatever  _ this  _ is that you’ve been doing to me the last couple weeks, I can’t fucking deal with it.” 

“Natasha what’re you,” 

“It’s  _ you  _ Barton, okay?” her voice was rising and the receptionist was not so subtly eavesdropping on their conversation. Natasha couldn’t be bothered to shoot the young woman a look and silently tell her to piss off, too focused on trying to maintain the courage to say what she needed to Clint. 

“It’s all that, you’re so,” she sighed and paused, turning over the next words in her head, knowing that whatever response Clint gave her after she spoke them would fully confirm everything she’d been turning over in her head since returning home. “Why the fuck do you care so much about me? All the times before this mission, you’ve just shrugged me off and treated me like nothing more than a co-worker that you tolerated, which, fine, I did the same to you. But what the fuck was so different this time around that you had to nearly kill yourself for me?” 

Natasha’s fists were balled at her side, but she didn’t want to hit him. What she wanted to do was let out a long scream in his face for taking more than two seconds to answer him after she’d been sitting on these questions for four weeks. He owed her a quick answer after everything he had put her through in Portugal. He had to have had  _ some  _ sort of answer ready seeing as it was all his actions that put them here. Everything that had happened couldn’t have happened just because he felt like a sudden good Samaritan or wanted all the glory for himself. She needed an answer she could make sense of. 

“Barton.” Natasha said sternly.  

Clint sighed and ran his non casted arm through his hair. “I care about you, okay? I just do. I couldn’t stand seeing you so, so  _ raw _ and vulnerable back there after that dinner you had with Theo. All the time I’ve known you and you’ve been this wall and to see someone, G-d someone like  _ him _ get to you just, it broke me down, and I didn’t want to see you so fucked up again. You don’t deserve that.” 

That same expression of embarrassment that he had the night they shared the bottle of vodka after her nightmare was back again, but this time, he didn’t turn away. 

Natasha appreciated his honesty, but she didn’t know what to say to him now. This was everything she had wanted, but also everything she had feared. Clint Barton cared about her, and she knew all too well what care like that did to people with lives like theirs. It had already fucked up what was supposed to be an easy mission, nearly gotten both of them tortured, and almost both of them killed. One night was all that it took for Clint to care about her enough to put his life on the line without so much as a second thought. Natasha wondered if she would ever be able to do the same for him, and if she did, how long would it take for her to get to that point. But there was no use in wondering for long, because she already had her answer. 


End file.
